


Once More

by ashihime (snuberr)



Category: Jashi - Fandom, Samurai Jack (Cartoon)
Genre: Age Difference, Drama, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Post-Canon, Reincarnation, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:01:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snuberr/pseuds/ashihime
Summary: Fate is a seed sown, and waiting is inevitable.
Relationships: Ashi/Samurai Jack
Kudos: 59





	Once More

**Author's Note:**

> SO....I wrote this fic ways back all emo before the release of the Samurai Jack: Battle Through Time game. But considering the *now* state of things, I’d say this is now a useless fic. Excuse me, while I go have a party and celebrate. 
> 
> Any errors will be rectified later because yoooo.
> 
> (Also, the lyrics to the song Ashi sings come from a translated anachronistic folk song).

***

The child sat there quietly still, unnervingly so, like the guardian statue of some ominous god. The old man that came with her kept close to her side as they humbly sat in front of the owner of the ryokan. The understated elegance of the establishment painfully brought out the mud-brown tatters of their poverty. 

“Madam.” The old man began, his eyes cast down as he spoke. “Would you kindly consider taking her in? She was a foundling at birth. Her guardian, an old lady who was my neighbor, passed away recently. She’s a healthy, energetic girl and you both would benefit from giving her work.”

The proprietress spared the child a glance. She was a scrawny little thing, her limp black hair cut unevenly, and her sallow skin covered in a mantle of dirt. There was also something unnerving about her eyes. They looked thunderous for someone so young. Shouldering a troubled child was the last thing the ryokan needed. 

“Had the old woman no kin?” She asked, already planning on how to go about her refusal. 

“No, madam.” The old man said, his voice wringing with desperation. “She’s all alone and I can’t take her in. And if you don’t take her, I’m afraid of what will happen to her again.”

“Again?”

“Some miscreants tried to kidnap her to sell to a brothel.”

The woman’s eyes flew back to the young girl, who showed no emotion whatsoever towards the unsavory revelation.

“How horrible...it is fortunate you rescued her.” 

The old man lifted his head up with a clarifying noise in his throat. 

“She wasn’t rescued...” He said, the lines of his face deepening with his words. “She...fought them off and escaped by herself.”

“What?” The proprietress's sympathy turned to shock. “ _Her?_ But she’s only a child!” 

The old man shrugged, as though he still could not quite believe it himself. “She scratched one of them up real badly.” 

Both adults turned their attention to the girl, whose stormy expression still had not passed but her spine was noticeably straighter with her hands clenched tightly on her lap. A semblance of pride. 

“What is her name?” The proprietress asked, unable to keep the awe from shining in her voice.

“The old woman named her after the lost princess. Ashi.”

 _Ashi_. It was a popular name that originated from the ill-fated bride of the heroic prince that vanquished Aku almost a decade ago. It was also an ambitious one. A name carrying the selfless ideals of what a woman should hope to strive for. 

The proprietress had met a lot of little girls with that name.They were often daughters of high rank, of noble samurai and affluent families in the new era. But with all their promising beauty and education, the name was only a hollow title. 

She had never met someone she felt suited the name perfectly until this very moment.  
  


***

The days following Ashi’s acceptance into the ryokan were tumultuous. On the surface, the young girl was biddable, following her daily routines from her superiors without fail or complaint. The issue stemmed outside of work, with the other young girls employed in the ryokan. Ashi did not get along with any of them and was known to bite or scratch without provocation. 

Time and again, she would be scolded and punished, which was another point of contention, as the young girl silently accepted everything without rebuttal that did nothing to remedy the root of the problem. In fact, she rarely spoke at all. 

One day, the proprietress sat Ashi down in the privacy of her office for yet another stern talk on her misconduct. But this time, the woman’s patience had drawn thin. “This must stop. You actually drew blood from one of the kitchen girls! Frankly, I don’t think we can keep you at the rate of your appalling behavior. Everyone feels unsafe around you.” 

Ashi did not say anything, as unmoving as the day she first arrived. 

“ _Ashi_. Don’t you care? You will be without protection! Cast out into the streets! I have no desire to do so but I cannot jeopardize the welfare of the other employees any longer. I also cannot write you a recommendation with a wretched temper such as yours. Please, say something! Anything to explain yourself!” 

At first, it seemed pointless. Hopeless. Ashi had that faraway look in her eyes, retreating into her inner thoughts that she safeguarded at all cost. The proprietress sighed in disappointment as she pulled out her purse from her sleeve. It would be her final act of charity, knowing she would be forced to send her away. 

“They say things…”

Stunned, the woman dropped her purse to her lap and lifted her gaze back to Ashi, whose shoulders were slumped in defeat. 

“They…say things.” She said again, her voice soft and tiny. “About me…” The words were slow and strained, as though speaking them required a great deal of concentration. 

“They call me a bad spirit...that I’m a curse. My parents left me when I was born...because I’m bad luck...that’s what they say…that I should have died...even the people in the village...thought so too...except for the kind grandma and old man.” Ashi lowered her head like she had confessed a horrible secret. 

The proprietress felt a twinge of sadness in her heart for the young girl, who had suffered from the ignorance of others. 

“Ashi.” She said, startling the girl with her soothing tone. “You are not a curse. I will make reprimands but you should not let what other people say define you. You are your own person. The decision is yours to make, whether to give them the power to hurt you or to look inward and believe in your own strength. I much rather you choose the latter.” 

“But”—

“Forget it. It is done.” When the young girl continued to look doubtful, she added, “A heron’s hatchling cannot return to its shell but it can learn to fly. Put the past behind you to pursue something greater, to find happiness.”

“Happiness.” The word rolled off foreignly on Ashi’s tongue. It was clear she had little experience of it. 

“You can find it in the future, if you allow yourself to.” 

For perhaps the first time ever, Ashi smiled. 

***

The world was an explosion of color. Of paper lanterns and garlands of straw. Banners fluttered as though buoyed by the surrounding laughter and gleeful banter. 

Ashi grinned foolishly, stopping in the middle of the moving crowd. This earned her scowls of disapproval from the people weaving around her. She did not care. It was the event she had been looking forward to all year long and she could not contain her excitement. 

The yearly festival celebrating the death of Aku. 

The demon was depicted everywhere, in black wooden effigies being sold by vendors, along with painted renderings on cuts of paper and cloth. It was tradition to toss his image into the bonfire at the end of the night for good luck. There were also wooden swords sticking out from baskets, waiting for a child to reenact the slaying of the demon. 

One of her accompanying friends from the ryokan pulled Ashi aside from the busy path. “Pay attention! You’re acting like a country bumpkin. You’ve been here for five years already. Act like it!”

The other girls laughed in agreement. Ashi responded to their teasing with childish measure, sticking her tongue out at all of them. They gasped in mock anger and pummeled her with playful slaps. 

It was ryokan’s night off from work, where they would not have to cater to customers or worry about chores. Instead, it was a splendid evening where they could relax and enjoy themselves. 

Ashi’s mood was light as air, the teeth of her geta barely scraping the ground as they flitted from one stall to the next. They sampled mouthwatering delights, from chewy tofu to the delicious snap of grilled squid.

They seated themselves on makeshift chairs, watching one-man plays and humorous puppet shows regaling anecdotal stories of the prince’s journey. 

One of the girls wanted to try their luck at the festival games in hopes of winning a hair comb or goldfish. Everything seemed rigged in Ashi’s opinion, having no interest in wasting her hard earned money on scooping games and ring tosses. Still, it was amusing watching her friends fail spectacularly. 

As her friends moaned their losses, someone called out to their group. It was a man seated on a low bench. There was a sign pole next to him, indicating he did readings. _Abysmal business,_ Ashi thought as no one even bothered to loiter in the spacious area of where he had set up. 

The girls approached him, out of partial curiosity and mostly pity.

“I can do readings!” The man said, scratching his patchy beard with a toothy grin. 

“Yes.” Ashi eyed the glaringly obvious sign. “We guessed...”

“Ah! But I’m different!” He said, flushing his words with exaggerated hand flutters. “A unique oasis from the other readers who supposedly can peer into the future. No, my dears! I can see into the past!”

Nobody said anything for a while and it was Ashi who eventually broke the silence.

“If you tell me I had breakfast this morning, I’ll lose my mind.” 

The man was unbothered.

“I can see into the past selves of your past lives! Wouldn’t you like to know who you were in eras past? Perhaps, you were a beloved shrine maiden. Or a royal concubine. Maybe, a masterful calligrapher. The answers to such mind breaking mysteries can be yours...for just a small fee.”

The other girls were now intrigued, murmuring among themselves and giggling with interest. His claims were too ridiculous to pass up. So, one by one, each girl sat beside him, offering her palm and star sign. With all his flowery talk, they expected some form of paid flattery, of being named a princess or court lady. 

Not so.

“A rice farmer who died from beri-beri.”

“A fishmonger’s wife.”

“A slipper maker who went out of business.”

“A ferryman whose wife cheated on him.”

“A snow monkey.”

When it was finally Ashi’s turn, the other girls looked about ready to commit a murder.

Ashi, of course, was not expecting much, except perhaps a laugh or two. What preposterous claim could this fraud have for her? She had to admit though, it was a clever ruse in its own way as future readings would be easier to verify than past lives. 

Ashi noticed the reader was inspecting her hand for a much longer time. She was even starting to feel the sweat from his hands. There was a deep scrutiny as he drew her open palm closer to his squinting eyes.

Ashi tried not to smirk. Her reading would undoubtedly be the most nonsensical of all. 

She waited until he finally lowered her hand, meeting her expectant gaze with a completely baffled one.

“You don’t have a past.”

***

_Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms_

_Across the spring sky,_

_As far as the eye can see._

_Is it mist, or clouds?_

_Fragrant in the air._

_Come now, come now,_

_Let’s go and see them!_

“A beautiful tune you carry!” A passing flower seller stopped in front of the ryokan gate where Ashi was sweeping. “Though spring has already left.” 

Ashi shrugged with nonchalance. “It’s always springtime here with our fine accommodations.”

“Dear me, are they paying you to advertise with that?” 

Ashi laughed, pausing in her task. “They should. I think I’m starting to wear them down to the idea.”

“If the ryokan wants to have a real eternal springtime, then fresh flowers are what you need!”

“I’m sorry,” Ashi propped her broom against the stone wall of the entrance. “But I don’t” _—_

“Come now!” The seller persisted, removing the basket balanced on her head as she beckoned Ashi closer. “At least have a look.” 

Ashi peered inside and her nose was immediately assailed by the sweet fragrance of summer. Morning glories, bellflowers, and irises were clustered together, forming a delicate dome. They came in a variety of blues and purples, as though they had been cut out from different-colored skies. She wanted to run her hands along the flowery surface and feel the soft petals.

“Well…” Ashi bit her bottom lip in thought. “The flowers we have _are_ starting to wilt...I suppose I can ask the owner…” 

When she got the approval, Ashi had enough flowers to fill all the vases in the ryokan. The seller was more than pleased, having sold all her inventory in one morning. 

“I also sell hair ornaments.” She told Ashi as she tucked her earnings inside her sleeve. 

“Ah, now that’s one sale you won’t win.” Ashi did not have ten years worth of savings from being a spendthrift.

“No.” The seller reached inside the cloth bag tied around her waist. “Consider this a token of my gratitude.” She pulled out a black lacquered hair comb decorated with painted white flowers. One vibrant detail stood out to Ashi, a black-dotted red beetle alighting on one of the luminous petals.

“ _Tentomushi._ ” said the seller, grazing a fingertip to the tiny impression. “They say these creatures carry the red string. Who knows? It might connect you to the one who’s meant for you.” 

Ashi thought better of giving her opinion on the matter and graciously accepted the gift. She waved the seller goodbye and returned to her sweeping. More than once, her hand would fly up to her hair, where she had placed her new acquisition. 

_Red string and fate..._ Ashi shook her head at the thought, a smile touching her lips. _Romantic superstitions must drum up a lot of business._

***

Ashi pushed through the kitchen noren and found the other girls on the floor, polishing the lacquerware. Despite having been out most of the day running errands, she still sat down with them and grabbed a bowl and cleaning rag. 

“Guess what, Ashi?” One of the younger girls giggled. “There’s a guest staying here!”

“Well, yes. I would hope so.” Ashi intoned sarcastically. “That’s the whole point of this establishment, isn’t it?”

“Oh, don’t give me that! I was _just_ leading up to the fact that this guest is a _very_ handsome man. He came just this afternoon while you were out.”

Ashi nodded at the information, her face blank with disinterest. She let the conversation float in the air with occasional details filtering through her indifference. He looked to be twice their age. He had a sword. Obviously a samurai. And apparently he was on a pilgrimage. A tribute to his late wife. He arrived on horseback—

The girls pulled back in alarm when Ashi suddenly pitched forward, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she barraged them with a series of questions. _“What kind of horse is it? Where is it kept? Can you describe the coloring?”_

They all groaned in unison. _Of course_ , trust Ashi to show more interest towards an animal than to a man! 

***

Ashi snuck out as everyone retired to their bedrolls. The moon was full, so there was no need to bring a lamp with her. Her skin shivered from the night air, making her all the more awake and determined. She moved silently like a shadow in her nemaki, past the moss and stone garden and koi pond, until she reached the wooden partition that connected to the area behind the bathhouse. 

She stepped around the wood shavings and stacked lumber used to heat the bathwater. A smile split her face as she approached the small shed. The door was already half-open and she could already discern the sounds stirring from within.

Ashi stepped inside, strong musty odors hitting her before she found the sought-after creature. It stood in one of the corner areas piled high with straw and cut grass, chewing contentedly with a flickering ear. The moonbeams from the ceiling cracks revealed it to be a white stallion with a silver mane and tail. He paused midchew, regarding Ashi haughtily, a quick swish of its tail as his only opinion towards her. 

He looked unfriendly and downright mean. 

But Ashi was not perturbed, she had come prepared. 

Reaching inside the sash of her robe, she pulled out a beautiful red apple, one among many that had been brought in from the orchards of the northernmost region. The one imperfection was a small bruise that did not meet the ryokan’s standards, which Ashi gleefully took advantage of. 

This got the animal’s attention, pulling the rope of its harness to a taut as he stalked closer to the treat. Ashi held it out to him. The horse lowered his mouth and the fruit instantly disappeared, leaving only a trail of wetness on Ashi’s flattened palm. She grimaced, and wiped her hand clean against the fabric of her sleeping robe. 

Finishing the apple with barely a chew, the horse gave a puffing breath, demanding more. 

“You’re a greedy one, aren’t you?” Ashi said, hands on her hips, as though she were lecturing a child. “Did your master not teach you any manners?”

The horse responded to the taunt by feinting a charge at her, causing Ashi to recoil. 

When she recovered from her fright, the damned stallion was regarding her with a triumphant toss off his head as though gloating, his soft whinnying ringing like equine laughter. 

Ashi was not pleased. 

“You brute! I come here to give you an apple, _not_ the cheap kind either, mind you! And you would repay me with such insolence? You’re more boar than steed and I hope you get castrated!” 

The horse dismissively returned to his original business in the straw pile, much to Ashi’s indignation. 

Snorting, she straightened her posture to afford herself some human dignity, and turned around for a dramatic retreat. This was effectively ruined when she crashed into something solid. 

Ashi staggered back to a turn, tweaking her nose from the unexpected impact. 

“My apologies.” A man, with a voice that rang deep and clear, spoke. “Are you all right?” 

“I’m fine…” Ashi said, pushing away loose tendrils of hair that had escaped to her face, before turning to the stranger. “I’m sorry, I should have minded where I was”—

Her breath caught in her throat. 

Standing before her, under the spilling moonlight, was a man unlike any she had ever seen before. He was noticeably older, evidenced by the glow of silver that streaked his hair and soft age lines of his skin. But that did nothing to deter his appearance. In fact, it only seemed to enhance it, adding an air of mature dignity. He was...striking. 

The stranger stared back at her, his eyes dark like the long shadow he cast between them. In their depths held a spark of something akin to some shocked recognition, which Ashi thought impossible as she had never seen him before in her life. 

Bowing her head, she repeated her apology. He did not respond, continuing to gawk at her unashamedly, as though devouring every detail of her person. However, there was nothing lecherous in his gaze, only an expression that searched desperately for answers. 

There was suddenly little space in Ashi’s mind, crowded by his presence and unnerving scrutiny. Forcing on a polite watery smile, she tried to duck past him and escape the intensity. But before her slipper could touch the ground outside, she found herself staggering back. 

She turned around in alarm to confirm what she felt, the stranger grabbing hold of her wrist, and from his touch, lightning streaked through her veins. 

_“What”—_

The rest of Ashi’s admonishment never left her tongue, replaced by a breathless gasp as the stranger pulled her into an embrace. His arms curled tight around her, trapping her against the steadfast build of his body. She felt every sharp inhale and exhale of his body from her hands fanned across his chest. When she looked up to protest, his eyes bore upon her a sadness heavy like summer rain clouds that struck her mute. It plucked at the strings of a biwa somewhere inside her ribcage. 

“Did a _shushin_ slip a dream inside my cup?” His words had the same tremor that were in his hands as he continued to hold her. “How long may I have you before you disappear again?” 

Then he pulled away, disengaging her from his arms all too suddenly that she almost stumbled. 

“Please. Leave.” came the anguish of his plea. He had his back turned to her, his shoulders trembling as if trying to contain himself. “I beg of you.” He started for the horse in the corner, kicking clumps of hay in his wake. 

For a while, Ashi did nothing, rooted to her spot and utterly confused. _He’s drunk_ , she told herself, having caught a whiff of sake from when she was against him. She was no stranger to unwanted advances. From sloshed guests, who learned quickly after a swift kick or elbow. 

But strangely, there had been no disgust, no risen bile when she was held by him. This stranger. A person like any other that passed through the doors of the ryokan. 

Ashi had served many people. Patrons whose faces could hang on the walls like decorative masks at a festival in a multitude of color and design, but leave no lasting impression as soon as she walked past them. 

But this stranger was different. For in the span of a moment within his arms, something had changed. As though her heart had just stirred awake like a forest creature coming out of hibernation. A slow thawing of ice in spring. Something had unearthed, growing quickly and steadily like moso bamboo. 

She cupped her own face, the heat of blood rushing there as though to replace the faded warmth of his touch. She turned around for the door again where a breeze had just entered, blowing against her face like a gentle caress, as if coaxing her to step outside, away from this man. 

Slowly, Ashi dropped her hands and resolved to leave. But it did not happen for she felt it—a feeling of half-longing half-panic taking over her. They moved and swelled like waves until they found the shoreline of her old wounds. 

She remembered them vividly. The children who had mocked her, who threw stones and words that cut deep. The adults who whispered about her, who never stepped in to intervene. The kindness of her guardian—a frail old woman—and how Ashi, to her regret, never allowed herself to believe it was genuine until too late. 

She remembered the men who tried to abduct her, who pulled her away from her futon. The cold fear and nausea when they explained the many ways they could make money off of her. How one of them suggested they break her in first. 

Then and there, she decided she would die fighting, nails and teeth. _She would fight to save herself._

Her thoughts were only broken when she noticed her vision becoming blurry, the world wobbling like disturbed water. She blinked and felt a twin set of wetness trickling down her face. She immediately wiped it away with her sleeve. 

“Are you all right?” The stranger sounded behind her, he had moved quietly without her notice. “I apologize.” He said, his voice filled with remorse as he carried out an explanation. “For a moment, I swore you were someone dear to me.”

The sake must be losing its effect, his voice was more solid and certain. Ashi dabbed at her eyes, tamping down the last of her tears. 

He was close. If she extended her arm behind her, she would touch him. And—she realized—she wanted to touch him. She wanted to feel his strong arms surround her again. It was strange and dizzying, this need to _feel_. This need for _more._ Like someone caught in the curling tendrils of opium smoke. It was an all-consuming desire that scratched beneath her skin, clawing to be set free.

“Miss?” He called again.

And Ashi turned around. 

And no sooner after she revealed her face to him again did she find herself back in his embrace. 

And it felt like she had always belonged there.

***

It was the horse that woke him up, hooves beating the tattered floorboards impatiently. The man struggled with his eyes, the sunlight irritating him. There was also a rather unpleasant smell. He sat up against the wall and was more than a little alarmed to find himself in a pile of grass and not the beautifully decorated room he had been assigned to. He panicked, eyes frantically checking for his sword before realizing he had left it inside the ryokan.

He rubbed at his temples, feeling rotten inside his head. 

As he brushed away some straw, he noticed that his torso was exposed and his gi wadded around his waist. He sucked in his breath as memories of last night floated before his eyes. 

They came to him, blurry and disjointed, like painted rice paper soaked in water. His skin, however, thrummed with vivid recollection from every detail of the mysterious encounter. From every kiss to every embrace. From her every sigh that melted into his ear to the sharp gasp she passed into his mouth as they joined together. 

They had laid on the grassy bed, exploring each other’s skin as though it were a map to some divine treasure. 

_Gods._ She had been an innocent. The dried blood on his fundoshi would later confirm it. 

He covered his face in shame, trying to collect himself. He had been drinking. _Six or seven cups?_ He could not remember. But evidently it had been enough to lose all reason. 

He could not recall her face. But he knew his heart had been stirred at the sight of her like the first autumn leaf to touch a still lake. His inebriated state must have had caused him to project onto this unknown woman, and for some reason, she had allowed it. Even when he had callously cried out another woman’s name. 

He had never been with anyone else after his beloved. 

_Until last night._

The horse made a low, almost growling noise, startling the man back to reality. He glanced up at the creature, which looked to be in a fouler mood than usual, most likely from the sight the poor thing had to bear witness to. 

Sighing, the man gave the stallion a reassuring click of his tongue as his hand groped under the grass pile in search of something to pin back his hair. 

His knuckles brushed against something flat with dull spines. 

Under the shafts of sunlight and dancing motes, he inspected it. 

It was a simple hair comb with a painted decoration. 

And from it, one tiny speck, an effortless dab of rouge from the tip of some artisan’s brush, almost made him weep.

**_The End._ **


End file.
